


The Rambles of a Madman

by miss_nettles_wife



Series: Whumptober 2019 [17]
Category: The Doctor Blake Mysteries
Genre: Canon Compliant, Drugging, F/M, Gen, Post canon, Whumptober
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2021-01-02 11:23:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21160850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_nettles_wife/pseuds/miss_nettles_wife
Summary: Whumptober Day 17: HallucinationMatthew, Alice and Jean are forced into the station late at night to interview Charlie, who seems to be drugged out of his mind, and insisting that he knows exactly where the Doctor is.





	The Rambles of a Madman

**Author's Note:**

> I took two days off, but I feel much better now. Here we go with another old idea i've turned into a proper fic. A long one to make up for the wait :-)

“Tell me again what you saw,” Matthew said, and tapped the table in front of Charlie’s face with the bottom of his pen. Charlie was painfully slow to react, raising his forehead out of the crook of his elbow. He looked...Dirty.

It was hard to tell how much of this was him blending into his undercover assignment, and how much was from him being abandoned in the middle of Ballarat in the middle of the night, with no shoes or coat. In the state he was, Matthew was surprised, he’d been able to find his way to the station at all, especially since the building was moved and he’d never been here before. Maybe he had some kind of angel looking down on him. Maybe he was just lucky.

“I already did. Three times.” He moaned sounding absolutely pitiful. About as pitiful as he looked. Matthew had known Charlie for coming onto six years now, and in that time he could count on one hand the number of times he’d seen the much younger man looking anything other than perfectly pressed. His look had never really updated with the times, he still favored the careful swoop at the front, slicking his natural curls down with an intense amount of Brylcreem. Seeing him with his normal, albeit greasy, hair just seemed incorrect.

He supposed, that it was because Charlie’s hair, while classically handsome, was an identifying mark in the rapidly changing world of the sixties. Matthew would never claim to know the first thing about fashion, but even he knew that the current in look was sleek, and long.

Despite himself, Charlie’s miserable, if a little childish, tone pulled on a heartstring he’d thought he’d cut a long time ago.

“Tell me one more time, and I’ll let Jean take you home.” He said, finally. Honestly, if he asked her, Jean would take him home right now. She’d been sitting outside in the corridor quietly since the interview started, and had come along with him since he got the call to the house that his old sergeant had turned up, drunk and rambling.

Of course, that in and of itself would have been extremely strange. He’d never known Charlie to drink (in his own words: Drunk Charlie has it out for me). Even more strange, he knew Charlie was undercover in Melbourne. He’d said as much in a phone call, apologizing to Jean for not being able to come to town for her birthday, but assuring her that he’d send a card and a gift. Over her protests that he didn’t need to do any such thing.

He’d come down, Jean and Alice insisting on coming along. Jean, because she would never pass up an opportunity to mother hen one of her ‘boys’, Alice because she didn’t want to be left out. He’d expected to tear the boy a new one, and he’d been about to launch into it when Alice noticed that he wasn’t drunk. He was drugged. She’d (against Charlie’s will) taken blood samples, but agreed it was fine for Matthew to try and figure out what was going on.

It was against protocol, but if he’d been made, then the people in Melbourne need to know as soon as possible.   
“I was undercover,” Charlie said, into the crook of his arm.

“Head up Charlie. I can’t hear you.” He obliged and lifted his head so his chin was resting on the top of his wrist. His knuckles were swollen and bruised, and one was bleeding where he’d picked the scab off earlier.

“I was undercover.” He repeated, “And I got the shit beat outta me.”

“Who beat you?”

“Dunno. Some guy. This isn’t important. Can’t we just skip to the important part?” After a moment of consideration, Matthew relented. It was obvious Charlie was coming to the end of his rope, and he didn’t want him to shut down, but...He needed this information now.

“Just give me a synopsis.” He said, finally.

“I got beat up when I was bouncing for this underground fight thing. Some drunk bastard wasn’t really happy with me doing my job, and threw a punch that got me right in the nose.” He said, finally. That was consistent with what Matthew could see, while he was trying to avoid staring at it, there was a huge purple bruise in the center of Charlie’s face, and dark bruises under both his eyes as well. In short, he looked like someone who got punched in the face.

“Why were you bouncing an underground fight?”

“We’re trying to shut down a group of organized criminals.” He said, “They do murders and stealing.”

Well, Matthew thought, he had asked for the synopsis. The particular branch Charlie was involved in was...Nasty. He was surprised that Charlie was alive if he’d been made. He indicated for Charlie to continue. He was slouched low in his chair, his knees spread widely. His hands slipped off the table and landed with a soft noise between his legs on the chair. He looked like he hardly had the energy to keep his head up.

“The boss man took me back to see the group doctor.”

“And you’ve never seen the group doctor before?”

“Never been beat up before.”

“Not once in seven months?”

“Not once in seven months.” Charlie hesitated, but he nodded for him to continue. “They took me back to see the group doctor, and it was him, boss.” Matthew didn’t really appreciate that Charlie would call both him and a criminal with more bodies to his name than his age boss. It was a silly sentiment, just like what Charlie was about to say next.

“It was who, Davis?”

“The doc.” Despite his overall weariness, when Charlie looked at him he had a set of wide blue eyes. Like he was seeing something behind Matthew, rather than Matthew himself. It was unsettling to say the least.

“And by ‘The Doc’ you mean -?”

“Lucien Blake.”

“The same Lucien Blake who is presumed dead after falling off the Sydney Harbour Bridge.”

“The same.”

Matthew reached up and ran both of his hands over his face. It was pretty late; usually, by this time, he’d be in bed with a novel or sleeping. Maybe he should just let Charlie go, and then he could go to bed as well. But he knew that he had a duty of care, and he had to do his best, no matter how tired he was.

“And what happened next? Did you break cover?”

“Of course not,” Charlie said, managing to sound a little offended at the proposition.

“Did you communicate with this so-called Doctor Blake?”

“I tried to.” He admitted, “But he didn’t have much to say to me, other than he was going to get me fixed up. He stuck me with something. Don’t know what, but it took the pain away.”

“I’ll bet it did,” Matthew said, grimly, just barely stopping himself from adding it seemed to have taken his good sense as well. “And you’re certain of what you saw?”

“Of course I am.” He said, “I know Doctor Blake.” For the first time in a while, he straightened his posture and tried to look at Matthew straight on.

“You’re certain of what you saw, despite being strung out on God only knows what, and just after being punched in the face?” Charlie lost his previous bluster, and slouched back down on his seat, probably realizing that no one was going to take him seriously.

“He told me when we were in the car that I should stay away.”

“He put you in the car?”

“Him and the boss, drove me all-l-l-l the way back here.”

“Were him and the boss on good terms?”

“Don’t know.” He said, “But boss seems to like having a doctor on staff.”

“Did he seem like he was there against his will?” Charlie’s face scrunched up in thought like he had something very serious to think about. Matthew didn’t want to be an asshole, but he was pretty sure the only thing Charlie had seen were hallucinations of his own making. Lucien Blake working in organised crime? Impossible.

“I heard...Well...I heard in the car that the boss was glad he pulled out of the water.”

“And how did he reply?”

“He didn’t.”

“And why did they bring you to Ballarat?”

“The doc said that it was the best place for it.” Charlie replied, “It’s so cold out, said I’d probably be out before I got ten feet from the car. A warning to any other coppers.”

“So you were made.”

“Guess so.” Finally, with the information he needed, Matthew stood up and pointed at Charlie.

“Do not move.” He said, “You stay right there, do not talk to Jean, do not mention this to her. I’m going to send in Doctor Harvey to look at your nose, do not mention this to her either.” Pause, “It’s top-secret police business. You understand?”

“Yeah.”

If Charlie was good at anything it was following rules.

He slipped outside, to be faced by Jean and Alice. He looked between then and said

“Alice, go check on him. Jean, wait here. I need to talk to you.” He figured it would be best coming from him than Charlie. “But first I need to make a phone call.”

He went to his desk, sat down, and rang the number for Charlie’s handler. Charlie had given it to them in case of an emergency, and he suspected this was an emergency. He filled the man in, as briefly as he could, that Charlie had been made, but he was alive. Told him to wait until morning, then come talk to him when he was sober. Fielded a few questions about what Charlie had told him, and then hung up the phone. It couldn’t have taken him more than twenty minutes.

He returned to find Jean sitting outside, where he left her. After a moment of hesitation, he cleared his throat and sat in the chair beside her.

“What do you have to tell me?” She demanded, “Why can’t I go in there?”

“Look. There’s no way for me to tell you this in a nice way.” He started before he was interrupted.

“What? Matthew, just tell me!”

“He’s talking about Lucien.”

“Excuse me?”

“Lucien. He keeps insisting he saw him in Melbourne.”

“In...Melbourne?” She asked, after several second pause.

“Mmhmm.”

“And Alice said he was drugged.”

“He’s certainly more lucid now than he was an hour ago but yes. He’s not himself.”

“So we can’t know for sure.”

“I’m afraid not.”

“But you’re going to send someone anyway?” She prompted, that dreadful inch of hope in her voice.

“I can’t. It would jeopardize the entire operation in Melbourne.”

“But if he is there -”

“He probably isn’t.”

“But if he is, then shouldn’t we be helping him?” She demanded, loudly. Inside the room behind them, he heard a chair fall over, and Alice insists that Charlie should sit back down, and not to worry. Jean took a deep breath, and called

“I’m fine Charlie, sit down.” Before looking back at him.

“So… What is he doing there, according to Charlie?”

“Practicing medicine, some kind of staff doctor. Or, that’s the impression he gave Charlie when he drugged him.”

“Is he there because he wants to be?”

“I don’t...I don’t think so.” He said, “But Charlie is out of his mind.” Matthew reminded her. “When we started the first interview he could hardly tell me who he was and in the second, he couldn’t stop telling me that his hands weren’t his hands.” Jean sighed, and then looked at her shoes.

Inside the room, everything seemed to have settled. He didn’t think Charlie was dangerous, if he did, he would never have sent Alice in. He didn’t seem like a danger, just...Off. He looked back at Jean and was overcome with a wave of...Something. Sadness? A bit. Empathy? A little. He couldn’t explain it. He was just as desperate as anyone else for tips as to Lucien’s whereabouts. Even if it was just a body. But this wasn’t a tip. This was the ramblings of a mad man and didn’t want to treat it as anything more important than that.

He’d trust Charlie with his life, and had done so on multiple occasions. He fully expected that when he retired, he would be handing the reins to him. He’d never officially discussed it with Charlie, but he’d never felt like he had to. It was an understanding between them. Matthew’d been accused of favouring Charlie in the past, mostly by Bill and as much as he loathed to admit it...He was right.

Charlie was his favourite.

But being his favourite, or his next in line, or his protégé, or whatever they wanted to call him, didn’t make his drugged ramblings any more meaningful than anyone else. Right now, all he wanted was to go to bed, and he was sure that was all Charlie wanted as well. He was pretty sure everything would look brighter in the morning.

“Can I go in and see him?” She asked, looking up at him. She had a steely look in her eyes. He wasn’t sure what she meant by it but nodded. She stood, and tucked her bag under her arm, and entered the room, Matthew a few steps behind.

Charlie was seated in the chair he’d knocked over but had picked up. Alice was sitting on the table. The overhead light makes them both look yellow. Charlie’s eyes widened when he saw Jean, and got to his feet clumsily, before accepting a hug from her. He was bigger than her, but lowered his head to press it up against her neck, eyes closed. If he didn’t know better, he’d assume it was a son embracing his mother. He can hear Jean speaking to him softly, and the soft rumbles of Charlie’s deeper voice responding but couldn’t quite make it out. Jean pulled back to look at his face, clicked her tongue, and put a hand on his chin.

“What did you do to get that?” She asked.

“Not a very good bouncer.” He answered.

“Maybe you should stick to policing.” She advised, before pulling him in close again. Charlie sighed softly, and it was a pleased noise that Matthew as glad to hear after all of the interviewing. “Come on, let’s get you home and into bed.” She said, slowly pulling away but allowing an arm to wrap around his. “And maybe a shower. What on earth happened to your hair?”

“I had to blend in.” He said, as he allowed her to lead him out of the room, “Ne’r do wells don’t have nice hair, I guess.”

“Well, luckily for you, I have some leftover tins of Brylcreem you left behind.” She told him. Matthew followed a few steps behind, Alice by his side. He was grateful the night was now over. 


End file.
